


Sin of the Flesh

by whatsanapocalae



Category: Devil May Cry
Genre: Abuse, Abuse of Authority, Age Difference, Bad Sex, Blasphemy, Finger Sucking, Hurt No Comfort, M/M, Men Crying, Overstimulation, Pining, Sexual Fantasy, Spit As Lube, no prep, pillow humping
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-06
Updated: 2020-11-06
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:15:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,136
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27412579
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whatsanapocalae/pseuds/whatsanapocalae
Summary: Nero has been fantasizing about The Man in Red for a while, when Sanctus finds out about it he must be taught exactly how much pain the enemy would provide him.
Relationships: Nero/Sanctus (Devil May Cry)
Kudos: 19





	Sin of the Flesh

They had training about this, had been given little packets of information, a single blurry photograph, and a story to chill them. There was a monster out there and he was coming for them, was hunting them, would destroy their faith and those they held dear. He was an enemy to The Order of the Sword and an enemy of the holiest of the holy, Sparda. 

The photo itself didn't give much. It was of a man, much older than Nero but still spry and healthy, stronger in appearance than any of the knights and acolytes, with stark white hair and a red leather coat. The photograph was definitely candid, he was blurred because he was in the process of turning and giving the photographer a two finger salute. There was a massive sword on his back but he looked so casual, so relaxed, that he didn't look much like a threat. 

The stories, on the other hand, of The Man in Red, were all full of terror, of strength, of how he had killed so many demons, had acted like he was on the same side as they were, but that it was all a ploy. He had plans to stop The Order, no matter what it took and it was up to them to keep Fortuna safe from him. They had to train and study and be the best that they could be. 

The pamphlets with the photo were there's to keep, to memorize, but Nero was sure he was the only one that used his the way that he was. When he wasn't on a mission or receiving Sanctus' blessing or training, he had the pamphlet in hand, his eyes on the photo, trying to pick out any better details as his mind raced. He wanted to know more. He wanted to know the man's name, his face, how strong he really was. He wondered if he smelled like sweat and skin like a normal man or if he smelled like a demon and of blood like he was rumored to. He wondered why his hair was white, if he'd ever been alienated for being different, how much the two of them had in common.

In his mind the man was gentle, would touch him with reverence, the way that he always touched Sanctus. He would whisper praises into Nero's ear as his calloused hands made their way down his stomach, down to his cock, would pull at him and tell him how hot he was. In his reality his cock was only ever touched by himself, his own a filthy symbol of sin, while Sanctus' own was a sign of his masculinity and power, his right to lead, his seed blessed by Sparda himself. He imagined that the man in red would run his hands through Nero's hair, would kiss him gently, would treat him like a lover, an equal, instead of a concubine that needed to confess for his sins to be filled with such holy light. 

He grew hard for Sanctus via the pleasure and the expectation of pleasure. He grew hard for The Man in Red for the joy of it, for the hope, for the way his mind ran. 

And it was so much, his mind going to how not just a hand but his mouth would wrap around his cock but Nero wasn't allowed to touch himself there so rolled his hips into his pillow. He didn't get to cum from Sanctus, was reprimanded and the bishops were allowed to take him, make him feel even more like a hole to be used, when he did by mistake. But here he was alone, the only company he had being the man in his thoughts, and he was able to go at his own pace, fucking his pillow until he came into his hand. He always licked his fingers, didn't have anywhere else to keep the semen that left him.  
It was fine, it was safe, no one had to know. 

Until it was, because there was no such thing as privacy within The Order. He was in the process of his usual nightly ritual, imagining the kisses The Man in Red would trail down his neck and shoulder, when he heard the clearing of a throat behind him. He froze, mid thrust, all of his blood freezing in his veins. His cock was pulsing, his thoughts swimming, and for a long moment he wondered if his dream had become a reality. He turned, looked over his shoulder, and saw his holiness, in his white and gold casual attire, the lounge shirt and loose trousers that he wore when he was not before the congregation, leaning against the door to Nero's small room, watching him. 

"And what sin has rooted itself in your soul, my child?" Sanctus asked him, stepping closer. 

Nero's face turned a deep shade of red. He couldn't admit it, couldn't even start. 

Sanctus came around to his front saw the pamphlet in front of him, that blurry photo smiling proudly up at him. The photo held none of the shame that he did. 

"I can explain!" Nero lied, hoping that he could think of an explanation before he got it out. 

"This is the enemy," Sanctus said, his voice cold and chilling, devoid of the light and clarity that it usually held. "You have fallen into lust for the enemy, when your body belongs to The Order. How could you have dropped so low into disgrace? Has my blessing not been enough?" 

There was hurt in his voice on top of the disappointment. 

"Its just-" Nero started but he had nothing to say, he couldn't apologize enough. 

"You have been tempted by him, to his side, filled your own mind with dreams and lies, things he is not and never will be for you." Sanctus put his hands on Nero's hips and, for a moment, there was the gentleness and care that Nero had been craving, but then Sanctus pushed him down forced his cock deeper into the pillow and made him ride it harder, rougher than he had the desire too. "Is this what you've been doing? Pleasuring yourself so selfishly while imagining that corrupting touch?" 

"Your holiness, please!" Nero choked out as his orgasm built, faster than he had planned, pulling at him harder than he expected, "I'm sorry! I'm so sorry, I'm still loyal to you, I swear it." 

"Loyal? In what way?" Sanctus pushed him down by the shoulders so that he was made to put more pressure on his pillow, "Not in your mind and definitely not in your body. Is your heart even still pure?" 

He wanted it to be, he didn't know hoe to not be as Sanctus wanted. Being an assassin for The Order was hard and he felt like a monster sometimes, but the gifts he was given, the holy power entrusted in him, he wouldn't give it up for anything. 

"Do you know what he would even do with you if he had you?" He hissed grinding Nero against the pillow. 

The pleasure grew, grew rough, grew to be too much and Nero gripped at his sheets, stammering through his moans as he came, spilling into the only pillow case that he had. It would be days before the next time he could send it out for laundry and he grit his teeth, whimpering as he knew he'd have to sleep in his crispy dried cum until then, unless he was allowed to sleep in Sanctus' bed, which he highly doubted at this point. 

He wasn't let up though, he could feel Sanctus climb up onto the bed behind him, could hear him rustling with his trousers, and then there was a hard pressure against his ass. It had been a few days since Sanctus had taken him, the stretch to his ass was gone, he shook his head, fear flooding his mind. 

"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, please!" Nero begged, "Let me be good for you!" 

"I'm not doing this for me," Sanctus explained, his voice as cold and empty as before, betraying his erection. He cocooned around Nero, one hand entering Nero's mouth, his fingers pushing down on Nero's tongue and starting to thrust in and out. "I'm doing this for you, my child, I need you to understand." His other hand was on his cock and he pushed forward, pushed in, dry, making Nero spasm and choke on the fingers in his mouth as the cock stretched him, too much, too fast. He wasn't ready. He couldn't take it like this. "I'm going easy on you. You think the enemy would be this merciful?" 

Sanctus shoved forward, sheathing himself fully and Nero gagged around a pained grunt. His hole felt like it was on fire, his heartbeat was so loud in there he was sure Sanctus could feel it like a massage around his length. He pulled out to the tip and then shoved forward again, forcing Nero's spent dick to rub against the pillow case. It was too much now, the material too rough. 

Again and again Sanctus pushed into his ass and pulled almost all the way out. There was no rhythm to it, no finesse. Usually it was Nero's job to ride him, pleasure him, but like this there was little pleasure for either of them. The grunts from Sanctus were tight in his throat, the dryness of Nero's hole making the friction too great, the draw too difficult. 

Eventually he pulled out and spat on Nero's red and puffy rim and when he pushed back in it was with a much more pleasant groan. He resumed his awkward pace and it because clear that it was purposeful, that Sanctus was working at missing his prostate with each push, that he was angling himself to cause more pain. And his thin and frail body was draped around Nero, his smell filling Nero's nose, his pointed beard tickling Nero's cheek. His fingers delved deeper, rubbed against his gag reflex, almost made him vomit. There were tears in rivers down Nero's cheeks but Sanctus gave them no mind. 

"He would hurt you, much worse than this. He would make you his whore, turn you against us. You wouldn't want that, would you?" 

Nero shook his head, gagged on the fingers once more. 

"You would get no love, no care from him, nothing but pain." He punctuated it with three fast thrusts, making Nero cry out. His cock felt like it was being rubbed raw. 

"Do you deserve forgiveness, my child?" Sanctus asked his body finally sliding into a rhythm, fast and needy. "Do you deserve to come back to me and receive my blessing?" 

He pulled his fingers from Nero's mouth, coated in saliva and mucous. Nero coughed, his throat feeling as raw as the rest of him. He wanted to say yes, he wanted to be good, he wanted the gentleness that Sanctus often showed him. 

"Please, your holiness, absolve me," he whimpered as Sancuts picked up the pace, "take my sin and cleanse me, I am your servant, in this and in every way." 

Sanctus planted his hands on Nero's lower back and pounded into him exhaling a long drawn out groan as his orgasm struck them both, his holy water soothing the fires of Nero's aching body. 

"And thus you shall come to me," he decided, pulling out of Nero's hole and stretching it, watching as his seed dripped out of him, his body too wrecked to try to hold it in, "every night this week and we will train your body and your heart to be steeled away from sin. Let the pain be a reminder of what could be if you were against us." 

Nero nodded, gulping, "Yes, sir, thank you sir, your blessing is all I crave." 

Sanctus wiped himself of one Nero's sheets and tucked himself away. "I will return to you with ointment and take care of your pains. Let it be known that your pain is yours but your healing is with The Order." 

Nero hanged his head. "Of course, your holiness, thank you." 

The moment that Sanctus left Nero crumpled, wrapping his body around his pillow and sobbing. His back hurt. His stomach hurt, every inch of him hurt. He was going to endure this pain. He was going to take it, every day for a week, and he would be better for it.   
He glanced at the pamphlet, and the blurry face, the smile hinted at in it now mocking. He wadded it up in a ball and threw it across the room. He would never let the enemy in. If he ever saw him, it would be his duty to step forward and tear down The Man in Red.


End file.
